Moondust.

@ ashen knight;
She was so brazen, her need to fight was on fire but she was far to weak to do much of anything at all. She was so angry, so hungry for more that she was being foolish. Take a Goddess to a battlefield full of demons? Either she would die or all his followers would die and that was no way to be a leader. Would they take down Hades? Yes, it seemed almost perfect now but they would not do it today. Apollyon was meticulous in his plans, in his understandings and his pawns had not yet come back to report; he wondered how deep they were in or if they were dead.

Apollyon twisted his head out of her grasp, angered by her complete outburst of control. He let the anger simmer beneath his skin, like a pot waiting to boil. He smiled at her as she scowled at him, breathing heavily. He then grabbed for her throat, pushing her back against the walls of the cave. There bodies made a thud as they were pressed against the rocks, closer to the stairs back to his throne room, and he practically hissed at her when their bodies made contact. She may be stronger than she was, but he was still stronger; he was, after all, actively sapping away at her own energy and excitement.

"Who do you think you are?" He spat. "I have been kind, to say the least, but you do not get to make the final decisions here. Is that clear? You are so weak it is laughable. Shall I throw you out of this cave? Let whatever God injured you come find you? It would be easy without my protective charms. Shall I kill you myself? Kiss you? Fuck you? It doesn't matter what you say. I decide."

He smashed his lips against hers, forcing her mouth open with his tongue. The blood and sting of their kiss fueled his fire - though not with anger, but with excitement.

"Do not forget who I am," he whispered, pulling away and moving his hands from her throat to the wall, to trap her beneath him. "And especially do not forget that I am not yours, you are mine."

---

Aurora jumped when Arneas leaped away from her. She was so content before, listening to the breeze and the birds singing and wondering how all of that felt to him. Now the golden silence that they were sharing was broken with his screams and groans. She looked around frantically, but no one was there to help them. She once appreciated their alone time, but she was useless and powerless in this situation. The only thing she could think to do was to touch him and she wasn't sure why she felt overwhelmed with the need to just rest her hands on his shoulders.

There was now a spot of red in this golden garden - of pain, anger, blood. She looked around one more time and thought of Ariel. Would the angel hear her or was it only Arneas who could call them? She took a few fragile steps towards where Arneas rested on his knees, his breath ragged and his face contorted with pain and anger and tried to be exceptionally gentle. She wasn't sure why she was doing what she was doing, but she felt almost like she had to, like her entire body needed to and ached to help him; she wasn't sure why.

"Hey," she said, dropping her voice low and quiet. She was trying to be calm for him. "Let me just look at it, okay?" She asked, though she was not asking for permission. He would say no, his pride heavy on his shoulders. She knew how small she was to him, but she just needed to do this for whatever reason - she had to. She grabbed the fabric that he just pushed aside and laid her hand on the red and angry wound that stared back at her. There was no blood, there was nothing noticeably wrong about the wound, except that it was redder than it had been when she bandaged it.

She was close enough to him that he almost seemed to be resting his head against her stomach and she noticed his breath even. Was it working? Did the pain stop? She did not dare to move, but just let her hand rest on the wound and her other to trace a soft and gentle pattern on his neck. She was glad that angels were distracted and glad again that they were alone. No one had to see Arneas on his knees and no one had to wonder why he let her so close - except for Aurora herself. She would just remain until she was told to stop.

"See, it's okay," she said, quietly, with a reassuring and gentle tone.

Had she made a mistake of being too bold? Yes. Did she know it? Yes. Did she utterly regret and wish to change her actions, as he grabbed her throat and pushed her against the cave wall and leaned against her with everything he had and she sizzled away in pain? No. She only groaned at it, tilted her head up away from his hand, sent him the harshest look she could conjure, her lips twitching to pull apart into a snarl but she did not let them, for if they did she would not snarl but curse and scream.

She allowed him only little whimpers and small gasps of pain whenever he moved, and his threats thrilled her all the more. The only true fear for her was him to throw her out. How funny, it had been quite the wish for him to throw her out just weeks ago. But she was growing weak and she was growing desperate, and she was provoking him with her words and actions to keep him interested, to keep him around, to be the barrier from Arneas - as he said he was. She flinched at one of her own thoughts. Him to fuck her? How would that feel? Would they burn in pain all over and try find pleasure from it? Were they both sadistic enough to hurt the other, or masochist? Maybe both.

Yune didn't respond to his kiss only to bite at his tongue if it ever came too close but even as he pulled away, she felt the demon filth in her hair, on her lips, in her mouth. She was completely covered in it. He was angry. When he pulled away, she was fearful but she was slightly smiling, maybe a little insane, maybe a little satisfied. She knew now, that should she fail to take Hades' throne, she would want to die. And more specifically, she wanted Apollyon to end her misery, drink the life out of her, leave her beaten and bruised draped over a rock with sword in her chest, or ripped to pieces- it didn't matter how.

"Except you need me to open those Gates," She whispered back, her voice shaking, her hands rubbing her throat, sliding down the wall a little to inch away from him and attempting to hide away her satisfied smile, though there was nothing she could do about the waves of excited energy she was sure were rolling down his chains. Despite all that, she still trembled. Fear and excitement in one, and she didn't know how to act. "After all, how often does a God tumble in to your kingdom?" Yune didn't know if she was saying it to prove to him he needed her, or to comfort herself that she would live a little while longer. She shook her head, never breaking eye contact with him, "You could do all you want to me, but killing would be most foolish."

---

The worst part was that while Arneas suffered here, the bitch of a goddess across the world had no idea of his suffering. It simply was her presence in this world (and it was fading) that lead to his pain. Arneas grit his teeth, completely enraged by that mere thought. She could run free and alive, he thought and gripped the ground, while I suffer in pain. No. I will end her.

Suddenly though, he was brought back to reality, there was light and a lady and her voice was captivating, and her touch so gentle. He felt he could rest and everything would be fine. I've felt this before, he thought as he succumbed to her words and tiredly let her move him as she pleased. Everything in his body screamed to stand up, to push her aside, that his pride was important, that his life was in danger. He couldn't let another mortal see this state, but perhaps… just this once… it was fine.

Even as Aurora touched his test, the pain seemed to ebb away. It still throbbed deep down, and would until Yune was gone, but he didn't think of it now. He only thought how nice it was to not feel the searing any longer in the place she put her hands. If she could run her hands along the whole of the wound, then that would be nice. She didn't move her hand though, and although he relaxed and leaned against her, he wanted more of this pain-free sensation. He slowly reached up and took the hand on his chest into his own, and slowly moved it up the wound. Yes. Everywhere she touched was like bliss and the pain was gone. Like a magical touch. Any logical thought escaped his mind as his eyes slipped shut, him focusing on trailing her hand up and down the wound, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders.

He didn't ask how. Not this time. This time, he simply enjoyed it. Keep her around, his mind insisted. She makes pain go away. Her touch is gentle, her touch is important.

When Arneas finally felt the last of the searing disappear, he opened his eyes and looked up at the sky, then tilted his head ever so slightly and looked at the girl. What was he to say? He was in debt to her for his angel, and for the healing, and yet she was just a mortal. A simple human. Were they getting stronger, these humans? Did they still need Gods? She was so pure it was as if she died yesterday and joined his temple. No blotches of sin, only the one that showed she was human, that she was still alive. Faint but there. He turned her hand in his and took it to hold.

"Shall we head back? It's been a long day. You need rest." I need rest.

@ ashen knight;

Apollyon was enjoying the way their energies were feeding and ebbing off of each other, like waves crashing angrily in the sea. All of their followers were tiny boats being rocked by this new experience of a God and a demon working together. Who were they? She had let him touch her, let him taste her blood and he sought her advice. She was right that he needed her, he was not that dense, but he needed to remind her who he was. He sacrificed himself to her mercy and to her body and he had to remind them both who he was. He was barely listening to her speak, but instead was listening to the flood of feelings and thoughts in his head.

Who was he?

He was a vampire who thought and read and learned how to absorb the powers of others by venturing to the deepest and darkest parts of the Underworld. He was a charismatic leader who listened to the demons that were considered ‘less than.’ He knew what he wanted and he knew exactly how he wanted to get it. He knew the intricacies of his desires and how they ruled him and teased him and hovered just out of his reach. He knew these things about himself because he learned to be self-aware and in control. He learned to never over estimate himself and never to underestimate his opponents. He learned and he learned; that was what he was good at it.

“I think you’ve had enough fresh air,” he said and he pulled them back towards the stairs. He step aside and then pushed her in front of him. She was right, he had grown to trust her and he had been foolish to think that she did not want something out of all of this. He let her play with him and he played with her and now he felt muddled and confused in ways he had not felt for a long time. He climbed through the Underworld on his own, he had no mentor or friend to help him along the way. He had no one to turn to in this hour of confusion and need, in his conflicting feelings towards Yune. Did he care for her? No, that did not seem possible for someone like him - he cared only for himself. Did he want her? Yes, absolutely. Did he need her? Yes.

But, what was he going to do?

He was not sure and when they arrived back to the throne room, silent and tense, he chained her back to the alter and walked out. He did not feel the need to speak to her any longer and he needed to blow off some steam. He needed to be reminded of why he was doing all of this. He left, listening to the sound of his footsteps as he walked the empty corridors. He walked to dining room (of sorts) and motioned for a glass of wine and blood. He put his head in his hands. What was happening to him? Why did she pull at the most human feelings within him? Why did she muster up a semblance of kindness in his dark soul?

“You will be ready soon,” the Seer said, interrupting his frustration and silence. “You worry too much. Let whatever happens with the Goddess happen. She fell into your hands for a reason that you both do not understand.” Apollyon looked up at the Seer who smiled at him and bowed slightly. She then sat next to him, drinking her own glass of wine and they talked. Perhaps he did have a mentor or a friend in her and maybe he did not, but he needed someone to listen to him who actually some brain waves. So, they talked all night about his goals and aspirations and his fears and they talked and talked until Apollyon felt much better about not understanding a single thing that was happening to him.

He walked back into his throne room with a new understanding of what was coming or rather, a new appreciation for not knowing. She was still fragile from his spike of anger, he saw it on her face and in how she attempted to contort her face into resentment. He wondered if she felt a seed of him growing inside her like the one she planted within him. He sat down on his throne across from her and he sighed.

“I am apologizing only once. I am sorry for hurting you,” he stated, slowly. “I would like to ask what you think comes next or I fear we will be trapped into a cycle.”

---

Aurora blushed at the intimacy of their position now, in how he grabbed her hand to have her continue touching him. She was not sure if just made him comfortable, if it helped with the pain, if it simply reminded him that she was there or if he just enjoyed them touching. Aurora enjoyed touching him, running her fingers along his chest and finally to the wound that was just now beginning to heal but was angered by something that neither of them could see. She was not sure how long they stood there, but the garden fell silent as if it knew that their God was struggling. She heard only his ragged breathing, only his struggles and her anxious breathing.

He looked up at her and she left one hand on his shoulder and back but let the other move to his face, to gently caress his cheek. She felt her cheeks turn bright red as he stared at her, uncomfortable with his attention and with their closeness. He must be able to feel every curve of her body against him and she was relishing the smoothness of his skin. When he took her hand, she blushed even deeper and her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. She hated that she felt this way because in all reality, she knew nothing about Arneas. What was his favorite color in this world of his? What was he afraid of? Who was he afraid of? How did he come so far? She felt like she had so many questions for him and yet, she also did not want to talk. She wanted to look at him forever.

She was not sure why he looked at her hands like she performed her own time of magic nor was she sure why she suddenly felt so tired. Aurora just took a long nap, yet her entire body seemed to be aching to fall into bed. Would he send her back to her room or keep her by his side? She would not know what to do if she ended up there anyway. Would she have to lay opposite of him, no touching or would he let her trace her fingers on his skin once more? Would she get to lay next to him and feel his radiating warmth or be confined to the colder side of the bed? It was easier for her to return to her own room where she did not have to address all her mixed emotions, feelings that Arneas seemed to have too.

She felt her stomach sink a little when she remembered Ariel saying she did not belong in his bed. He was right.

Just like that she was shoved out from the air into the ground below, her little fun ended and she was nothing more than a prisoner, a valuable one but still a prisoner, in his throne room again. Her only regret for lashing out was the cold altar and not the warmer softer throne but she contented herself - it was the best she got. He could have killed her there and then, and to cease to exist was her biggest fear. Yune didn't know if she had blindly led hereof to believe he would not kill her, or if it was indeed true, but the mere thought haunted, and she only ever gave it the one excuse. He needs me.

The break from him was much needed, and she spent the hours laying on the altar and gently running her hands over her sores on her throat, and anywhere else he had touched and grabbed and burned her, but the lips were last to be healed. She let the sensation linger there - why, she did not know - but the dryness was pleasant for a while. There was something about it. Yune shuddered. How long had she been here? Her logical and straight thinking were present, but her actions were rash and ill-mannered. This was not the way of a God, to challenge and provoke mindlessly.

She wanted to use the time off to think, but she did not think much, and when the night was over and she awoke, she was just as still as she had been when she fell asleep. It was cold, and she briefly wondered why. How could be it cold, here underground, where the flames licked the very paths the demons walked on? When Apollyon entered, she flinched at his very sight and looked away, raising her chin but gritting her teeth. There was a little fear of him, but the fear was foolishly curious. She feared she would poke and prod until not even her role to open the Gate would save her.

Genuinely amused when he apologised - she had not expected it - she turned half her body to him and looked him over intently. It irritated her. He was growing wiser, stronger. He was apologising and making sense, while she acted on her emotions in her flailing desperation to live.

She smiled ever so lightly, "You change everyday and it never ceases to amuse me." Yune decided it was best not to mention he grew stronger in the mind in her eyes, least he got too full of himself. She lifted her hand and looked at it, resting it on her pulled up knee. "If you ask me that in what we should do, then my answer is simple and unchanged. I want to see you fight. I want to see your army and your kingdom. Words are nice, but the size of your possession can only be assessed by eye." She glanced at him, "For everything else, I do not know."

---

Arneas stayed there for a while longer to linger in her basking warmth, the little glow - almost like a god's but so human and so humanely impure. Why did he feel so comforted? No other woman had been anything like this. They were wild and full of energy, but this was… calm. Like a gently gurgling brook amidst a sea of flowers. Arneas stood, and pulled away from the contact, least he be bewitched forever. He said nothing as they headed back to the temple, and he took the walk for once, to clear his mind and become aware of his senses again.

There was a war calling inside him. He would need to attend it. A small war but needed nonetheless. He walked up the steps, past the grand marble lions sitting still in their spots. He walked into the temple and there he slowed and stopped, waiting for Aurora to catch up to him so he could turn to her, thank her. When she did, he bowed his lead lightly, but was clearly pre-occupied in the mind by something else.

"Thank you for today," he said quietly, "I shall leave you be." Short, simple. He left the large room with the many stairs, left without so much as a glance behind, no matter how much he wanted to turn around. But the door finally shut between them and he was spared the unease.

There had been a simple reason to not look back. Ariel was perched on the railings of the upper level, looking down with an observing eye. The moment Arneas was gone, he jumped from the railing and sailed down to the ground to land gently by Aurora, for once not appearing out of thin air. "I don't suppose you're thinking of anything," he insisted, implying plain and openly that he would not accept any relationship between the two. A God and a Human simply could not be. He circled around her and waved his hand, forming a smile on his face. "And I thought you'd want to see your patient."

He gestured to the side with his hand, and as if on cue, another young boy appeared. His hair was golden sand, and his skin was tanned and smooth though covered in scars and wounds still not fully closed. He stood a little taller than Ariel, and looked to be a bit older. Clearly, he would have grown into a fine young man, if he were human. Izra closed his eyes and bowed his head to her, "I thank you for your care. I apologise for having attacked you earlier, it was not right of me. I was not expecting a living human in our temple."

@ ashen knight;
Apollyon sensed how they grew over this last week together - she was being ruled by her emotions and Apollyon was trying to stifle his. They were, again, stark opposites: different goals, different levels of control, different needs, different wants. They were different today and Apollyon remembered when she first arrived to him and how different they were on that day as well. Yet, they were the same. They wanted to rise up, to live, to fight for what they wanted. Their bodies were entangled, their memories and words and thoughts blurring together into similar notions. He appreciated her, but she was ‘amused’ by him. Differences, so many differences.

She did not understand that what she was going to see, she was not going to like. She would begin to distinctly remember where she was and who she was with, lest she somehow forgot even with her bruised throat. He did not dare to take her back above ground, but wars never raged in his kingdom - his people listened. They fought with outsiders, they fought with humanity. They were killing humans left and right to become more powerful before they went on to fight the true enemy, Hades.

“I have taken your advice. I am waiting for the pawns to return,” he said, almost disconnected from them. “As for the rest,” he muttered, shrugging.

He waved his hand, a flash of fingers, before a viewing portal appeared in front of them both. Above them was the war that his people raged - fighting angels and pulling off their wings, killing humans and taking their strength, fighting the witches and wizards and heavenly creatures left and right. He smirked a little, it was glorious to see and he wondered if Hades noticed. Surely a dead unicorn meant nothing to him personally, but would he not wonder what killed such a creature? Would he not remember how a demon gains strength? In truth, Hade probably did not remember or even know how demons gain strength. They both watched the scene in front of them, though differently, and the throne room settled in silence when he waved his hands again to make the portal disappear.

He stood, brushing his hands off and smiling. He snapped his fingers, her chains unlinking and he smiled. “As for my personal fighting skills,” he said, taking a step off the platform as the room twisted around them - a blur of stones and fire. It stopped spinning and Yune was left on the cold sand of a pit. It was an ostentatious show of his powers, most of which she had not seen. He was a summation of many beings, many demons and Apollyon was sure that Yune did not know that of him. He was also sure that she had never encountered a creature quite like himself.

“Well, shall we?” He asked, his smile twisting to a smirk and his eyes shining with excitement. She was not foolish enough to fight him back, there were others here that were just outside the room that he would be able to use to show her his skills. He is a good fighter, he thinks out every move, he watches his opponents, he learns and then, he strikes quickly. Pull their heads back, expose their necks, drink it all up and let the energy surge. Do not tease your enemies, do not taunt them, do not be arrogant, but be resourceful. He was fast, powerful and smart. Fighting was something he did, in fact, like to brag about.

“What are you waiting for?” He asked, removing his shirt and cracking his knuckles.

---

Aurora walked in silence behind him, staring down at her own hands as if she could make sense of their purpose or why they made Arneas shrink inside himself. He was too big, too grand and too powerful to look so small, so confused and so tired. She listened only to the sounds of their echoing footsteps and the whispers of the others in the temple. Of course they would wonder what happened in the garden for it was clear that Aurora and Arneas were different as they emerged back inside. They were not happy, they were not angry, they were just stone statues. She was so lost in thought that when she looked up, Arneas was several paces ahead of her and she had to scurry to catch up.

They stood in the foyer in the middle of the staircases that lead to the servant bedrooms. She felt disheartened at the thought of being alone again; she was so tired of being alone or being looked at. He barely looked at her and she immediately wondered if she had done something wrong or if she hurt him. She wondered if he was ashamed to have even touched her and she wondered what was going on in that brain of his. She seemed to wonder constantly about Arneas, but was never able to ask him. Their moments together were ephemeral. The echo of the door shutting behind him faded before Aurora decided to turn and walk back to her room.

When Ariel appeared by her side, she rolled her eyes at him. She was too frustrated, tired and confused to deal with his berating. He was a cruel little angel, hiding under the guise of innocence and she did not want to deal with him or pretend to be his ally. He talked, floating after her as she walked up the stairs, effectively trying to ignore him. His words were judgmental and they were remnant of his warnings from the last time she thought of Arneas differently than as a God that she should praise.

“I’m not thinking of anything,” she replied. “And if I was, you certainly do not get to pretend like you know anything about me.”

She said, turning to face his gold and shining eyes. Her hand rested on the cool metal of the door knob to her room and she just wanted to be rid of him. She just needed to be alone in this room (it did not feel like her room yet). She felt an odd sting of tears that she willed to go away because they were tears that she did not understand. Go bother Arneas, she thought. If she was so beneath both Arneas and Ariel, why did the angel even bother with her? In a good mood, she hated the angel so right now, she loathed him. His circling and floating and taunting and waving were exhausting and she barely registered the other angel until he spoke.

Izra looked much better and she felt a small bubble of pride in her chest, but her insecurities and her confusion far outweighed her success. His apology was sweet and he was reserved. She felt a nervous flutter upon seeing Izra, but this angel was different than the one who had attacked her before - if attacked was the right word. She wanted to accept the apology, it was not Izra’s fault that Ariel made her feel broken and sad to her core. Yet, Izra was clearly an extension of Ariel and with that, Aurora harbored contempt.

“Yes, well that’s lovely. Glad you’re feeling better,” she mumbled, before opening the door and slamming it behind her.

A door did not separate the angels from her, but she was hoping that the drama of it all would be enough for them to leave her alone. If she kicked her shoes off in frustrated, fumbled with the ties of her dress and let hot tears pour down her cheeks and she tried to undress. She left the white dress in a puddle on the floor as she herself turned into a puddle. She was left only in her undergarments, crawling into the safe confines of the soft, white bed and let out a frustrated broken little sob. What a stupid thing it was to believe in Gods, to think that he cared for her as more than just another person to worship him, to want to be so much more to him. What a stupid thing it was to cry except here she was, crying until the motion of her sobs rocked her to sleep.

The portal that had opened in front of them was quite the little surprise but Yune slowly neared it with wonder, and cast her eyes upon the bloodshed in it. Instantly, she saw many things, and she saw it all within the first glance. She saw the humans fall and be sucked dry, ripped apart to pieces, she saw angels be ripped apart and taunted, their wings a blur of weathers where they fell, stained red. She could not tell who those angels were anymore. They were fierce and strong but not many in number. The demons were clearly having the upper hand.

Two emotions stirred in her then. One to want to join the war, the thrill, the battle, to erase the sin and the stench and demonic foulness. And the second was despair. How easy those angels fell, how easy the humans were trodden on, how easily the demons won. She bit back her rage and anger, pushed aside the feeling of sadness. No, she would not tremble and break like that in front of Apollyon. He would never see her cry. She was a God. She herself would never cry.

Again, he surprised her with the transformation of the room, and she was quite aware of others outside on whom she supposed he would have liked to show her his skills. She retreated to the side of the pit, and settled herself on something comfortable to watch, her teeth grit together lightly, her fingers lost and wrapped in the folds of her dress. She was concerned, but eager, and prepared for the worst. "Go on," she urged him, eyes never once leaving his face, "Them, and then me." Oh yes, she would want to fight him herself. Nothing better than to test true skill with her own moves. She despised watching but it would be necessary. To learn how he moved, and it gave her a chance to observe him. Even as he removed his shirt, and she knew that any human would have swooned even for a sinful beast like hi, she kept her eyes on his face. She would not be distracted. Yune hoped the poor soul that Apollyon was going up against was worth a match, and not just some poor excuse of a prisoner. Anyone could kill a human. But fight a god? No, only few.

---

There had been a calling. A calling for wars that Arneas had to attend to, and he left that very night to go sort them out, to go grant the people their wishes of a war. He lead them through the fields, he lit their path. He was the fire in their arrows that sailed through the air and over tall walls, he was the sun in the enemy's eyes. He was the roar and thunder of battle cries and horses' hooves, rumbling over and down hills, against the walls of the castle under siege.

He was gone for three days and four nights, and when he came back (there was a commotion over his return, and the residents of his temple came running to greet him), he breezed past them all, cape flowing behind him, and into his room where he stayed and gained strength for another two days. At last he came out, and he was refreshed, and fit and strong again. Arneas had the glow in his skin, and the smug look in his eye, everything he had when he first found Aurora, and everything again he had now as he went to search for her.

During his travels between wars waged, he had found a small abandoned shack in the middle of a field, surrounded by many plants trees. At first he thought nothing of it, but upon closer inspection he found that the owner of the shack had long died (he removed the body from the bed and buried it in preparation) at that the plants overgrowing in the extensive garden were various vegetables and fruits on one side, and on the other many many herbal plants. Inside the shack, he had seen little books of healing and of potions. The owner had been a believer of the Healing Goddess, who hadn't been seen in a while now, but despite all that, Arneas thought it was of interest to Aurora, and so when he came back, and after his two days of rest, he went in search of the human girl in his temple.

When he finally found her, and it didn't take long for every strand of grass, every presence in the temple told him of its location, he approached her quietly and stopped a small distance away. Arneas watched for a moment as she did whatever she was doing, before clearing his throat.

"There is some place I want to show you," he said casually, putting his hands behind his back and casting a very partially passive look to her object of interest. "Take a basket or a satchel. You may need it."

@ ashen knight;

Apollyon smiled, stretching his neck and waving his fingers, another being appearing in front of him. He could not conjure another God or Goddess, that much she knew, but he tried to think of their second best. He could not conjure an angel, not to the Underworld at least, so he settled for an evil creation sent from the Gods themselves. A harpyia appeared in front of them, bringing with her a large gust of wind as her large wings furled out around her. She was beautiful, much like an angel, only her face twisted with anger and evil that Apollyon almost enjoyed in his women. The fight did not last long, this particular harpyia seemed resigned to fail and so Apollyon continued conjuring creatures: a sphinx, another vampire, a giant. All of which he defeated, though he did not kill. He simply waited until they fell to their knees before offering them a thank you and sending them on their way.

His muscles were sore, they had not fought in a long time and they flexed and flower with his motions. He could not fly, but he soared through the air and used his strength and speed to his advantage. His skin was bruised from blocking hit after hit, even his ribs were bruised from a large gust of wind from the harpyia. He was tired, drenched in sweat (some his and some not) and blood (some red, some black, some gold). He was a mosaic of a massacre, a rainbow of remembrance of those he defeated. He was breathing heavily when he looked back to Yune for he was not sure how long he fought. Once he started, it felt good to get back into motion and he kept going until his body ached for him stop, running out of energy. Though it did not matter, he was literally drenched in the exact source of energy he needed.

The sand where he sat was wet and Apollyon marveled at the fact that Yune’s dress remained white, in tact and pure, just as she was suppose to seem. He smiled at her, he did not feel the need to speak first. His body, his movements, his thoughts were pieces of him that Yune almost always seemed to anticipate, or at least understand. Did he not say everything to her that he was suppose to? He felt a little nervous for her reaction for Yune saw many battles, many fighters, many wars and he thought of himself quite highly. It would be a blow to his ego if she criticized him, though he did understand that it was often necessary to be reminded that someone was stronger. He licked the blood from his fingers, like his was finishing dinner with friends, and smiled at her.


“I need a rest, love,” he said to her, the colors of blood mixing on his teeth just as they did on his skin.

---

Aurora awoke with her eyes puffy, her face swollen and a silence in the temple that confused her. She padded softly to her door, cracking it open just a bit, but the temple seemed completely empty. The temple was not shining gold, but was a sleepy gray as if everyone here was taking a rest and she wondered why. It was their job to keep this place a shining testament to Arneas’ mightiness and glory, yet today it slept, even with sun peeking through all the windows. It stayed like that for many days.

She grew accustomed to being alone in the temple, save for a few spirits (for they were not actually human, she discovered) that were maintaining things until Arneas came back. She wondered for three days where he went, but also felt that she needed the distance from him. His presence made her head foggy, clouding her mind with images and fantasies that would never be. She needed the clarity of remembering who she was, where she came from, but not what she wanted. Of that, she was never sure. She spent the three days in the temple exploring its many twists and turns, mapping the walls with her fingers and the marble with her toes. She could draw a map of the place if she was asked.

On the fourth day, she awoke to activity yet again and she understood then that Arneas must have returned. She walked the empty halls, jumping whenever anyone emerged from a room. She was anxious to see him, but also scared. She was not sure how she would react or what she should say. Would he even come to look for her? Probably not, she decided. Ariel made it very clear to her that she was not worth Arneas’ time or, so it seemed, the angel's either. The angel did not bother her, though she figured he could have gone with Arneas. She did not know. There were so many things she did not know. She was resolved in walking in the temple, down the halls and out the doors and decided to start mapping the garden in her mind just for fun. By the end of the fifth day, she knew that Ariel must have been right.

It was on the sixth day since she last saw Arneas that she let herself wallow in her own pity and desperation. She could not stay here, waiting for a God that did not care. She could not simply wait for one of his more important servants to be hurt and need her help, but she could not leave. Where would she go? She sat in the green grass of his garden, pulling up pieces of grass and tying them in knots and wondering only vaguely if he felt that. She was angry with herself and embarrassed for how fickle she was in her emotions. She bounced back and forth between infatuation and a confusing mixture of anger and sadness.

It was his voice that stopped her from tearing at another piece of grass and her fingers dug themselves into the dirt, as if to steady herself. He spoke so casually, like they were old friends or as if she was to be expecting him. It only made her more angry; another directive, more instructions with little to no explanation. He was a God, why should he have to explain anything to her? How could she deny a request that a God made? Perhaps it was the fact that she grew up not believing, but she could not will herself to follow him so blindly. 
She did not look at him, she did not turn around and she waited until she knew her voice would be even and almost detached. She was trying desperately to mirror his tone, but she knew her voice would sound far more angry than his did. He was not angry with her for this was what he was expecting. He knew that she would be waiting for him and that only made her more angry. She pulled her hands from the dirt, brushing her fingers off on Ariel’s white dress, another act of defiance, before finally deciding what to say.

“I don’t really feel like going anywhere,” she stated, simply.

She had a little surprise when he conjured his beings out of thin air, and observed the power very carefully. It seemed he could not bring angels down here, and that was good. Not that Uriel could be conjured, for he was simply too strong and could resist the basic calling of an angel. As for her others…. She no longer knew where half of them were. It seemed her temple was falling apart. Her long absence from it was degrading it to the very core. But that thought did not stay long in her mind, for Apollyon had begun to fight, and fight aggressively he did.

Yune was still for the entirety of it, letting no emotion out or through, assessing, judging, learning his techniques. She marvelled at the way he fought, his mercilessness. It was like watching a beast in a cage tear down whatever opponent was sent its way. Ruthless, powerful, angry and strong. She did not flinch when they landed by her, she did not scrunch her face when there was more than enough blood spilled. No, this was good. Entertainment, and knowledge. When he was done, and he looked to her, she offered the tiniest of smiles. There he was covered in it. In blood, and grime, and sweat. In beauty. Here and now, to her he was beautiful. She stood while he sat, and walked to him. He was weak. It would be so easy to throw all her power forward and attempt to slaughter him, escape but then where would she go? No. Her next place was here. Here, or death.

"A day and a half," She mused, the amount of time he had fought without stopping. It had impressed her, as reluctant as she was to admit. Stopping short in front of and looking down at him, covered in the blood and sweat, smelling both of it, and not one to be disgusted by it, she slowly lowered herself to his level and looked him in the eye, a small smile of excitement spreading further along her lips. Her voice was light and playful when she spoke again, "An hour. And then battle calls. War does not wait."

Quickly stepping out of his reach, she gave him the space and time, sitting a little away from him and drawing circles in the sand to busy herself, now and then glancing at him. He was destructive, he was strong and he was fast. She admired these things in him as a fellow fighter. But she would not say anything until after they fought. It would preserve her own dignity if she fell, and it wouldn't hurt his ego as much if he was defeated by her. When the hour was up, Yune stood and let the familiar feel of energy flow through her. The air shimmered around her as golden armour formed over her skin, thin and moveable but impossible to break unless by a God or by a demon of the highest of status. No other demon had pierced it. Maybe Apollyon would be the first. She had never fought someone of his status before.

Especially, she made care to shield her neck with the armour too. No, no fangs allowed. No wrist exposed, no knee, no shoulder. If he wished to drink from her, it would be only for the upper of her inner thigh, where armour would not hold well, where it would restrict her movement, and thus was not protected as much. She was mildly curious if he would even dare try. She would behead him there and then. In her hand a small glowing orb appeared, and from it she withdrew her sword as if it had been contained in her palm, and then with the flick of her left, the orb vanished and a long spine-like spiked whip uncurled, dropping to the floor but moving as if it had a mind of its own. When Yune turned to Apollyon, she was all smiles and grins, "Shall we?"

Her foot sunk into the sand ever so slightly, and with a laugh that chilled the air around them and yet it stayed in its spot, she seemed to blur in the air and disappear, reappearing a little behind him and above him, in the air, golden wings unfurled as her whip came crashing down towards Apollyon. The strain on her was unimaginable. The shackles leeched and drew on her strength. She would be utterly exhausted after this. This fight could not last long. As long as she could pin him down at least once, she would be content.

---

Arneas had felt the grass, but he understood little of her emotion. Why? Aurora looked upset, but he could not fathom why she would be saddened by anything. Or if she was angry? He could not tell. She was not something he could sense, she was not a believer and she was not a soul of his temple. She was not his own creation, and it left him guessing of her thoughts and feelings, her intentions and wills and desires. He cared not for the dress, but his brows moved together slightly when she denied coming with him.

It was honestly quite the surprise. First of all, nobody had ever denied anything to him, even if indirect as it was. Secondly of all, nobody ever denied coming with him, also as indirect as her denial was. He couldn't help but tilt his head ever so slightly and he came closer until he stood right in front of her, the tips of his shoes almost touching hers. He crouched down and put his hands together.

"Aurora," He said, calling her name both body and soul. Believer or not, she was still human, and she should respond. Right? "What is the matter? You are not yourself." Why did he ask? Why did he care? Because she was in his temple. That was enough. In the world, it was his duty to rule and bring the wishes of the people to reality. In the temple, it was his duty to make sure all those that worked for him were in their better states. If they were guests, even more so. He was not sure which Aurora was, but it certainly didn't matter. He would care for her because she was here, in his temple, and that meant something. Right?

He reached forward and opened up his fist to reveal a rare herb flower, so small and delicate in his hand. It was one of the rarer finds, but he could not know that, for he had no idea of herbs and plants, and had simply taken it up from one of the bushes in the old man's garden in that poor forgotten shack. "There is a place of interest for you. Your interest. I found it when I was passing by, and thought you may like it. Come," he tried again, and moved his hand closer to her, extending the offer of the flower and the come. He was confused, why was she acting so? Had he done something wrong? Had one of his servants or his angels dampened her spirits? He had not felt any sin, nor any hate. Ariel was a loudmouth but Ariel had a way of speaking that sickened even him occasionally, but the angel never meant any harm. Arneas felt a small ball of protectiveness rise up in him, ready to jump to his angels defence if she should start accusing Ariel of wrongdoing. For Arneas was blind to human emotion and human love and human care, and he did not see that perhaps of all the reasons - he was the one that was the cause.

@ ashen knight;
Apollyon admired her as she walked: she was confident and comfortable in this battle ring of his. The blood stained the edge of her white dress, but she did not seem to notice or care. She was smiling back at him and he wondered if he should feel proud. When he realized how long they had been at it, he decided that he was, in fact, allowed to be proud of himself. He spent the last year, it felt, organizing and thinking and scheming and not using his body to its fullest potential. He knew he smelled horrid, but she smelled lovely. She was the physical embodiment of excitement and her energy vibrated off of her like a bell ringing in his ears. He wanted to listen to it, to smile at her, to touch her, but he was tired and weak. Sometimes Gods had to rest, sometimes demons had to rest - no being is an exception.

He let his head rest against the chains of the cage they were in, feeling the energy being sapped from Yune come back to him - perhaps that was why he fought for so long. What would it be like to truly have the Goddess of War on your side? How long would she last before her followers had to find another God to believe in? He did not feel it yet, but he wondered if she was losing power as they sat in here playing games with each other. She was right, she always seemed to be right. He could not rest for long, he could not allow himself to be so vulnerable and open in front of her, but he was tired. His arms fell slack at his sides and he slept, if just for a moment.

It was the bright heavenly light that awoke him and his eyes snapped open in response. She was clothed in armor, holding her sword and snapping at his foot with his whip. He almost wanted to laugh at her. Was he not beneath her? She talked such a big game, but seemed to be cowering under her golden armor. Was she afraid that he would win? His muscles ached and he was tired, he stood slowly and smiled at her. He stretched, letting his muscles flex as if reminding them that there was still work to be done, still a war to be fought.

“Alright, alright,” he said, raising his hands to placate her. “I’m up.”

She did not wait, she was itching for this and Apollyon was woken fully when her whip crashed down on his shoulder and sizzled against his skin. He leaped away from her, a blur of skin and colors and a hiss. She was going to fight dirty, it seemed, so apparently he must as well. He wanted to taunt her and the energy seemed be jumping around the room. Her pride, her honor, her prestige would be her downfall, that much he knew.

“Come now, love. You can’t even keep your feet on the ground. Have to wear armor just to fight little old me?” He asked, tense and ready for the next strike, unsure of where is was going to come from. “What are you? Scared?” He had landed right by her chains and grabbed them, pulling them down harshly and enjoying the sound of her being pulled towards the ground. They were both inhuman, raging against each other and fighting a war against their own impulses and desires. Their anger was mirrored in the clashes of her sword against his rock hard skin and the sizzling sound of their contact.

Apollyon was tired, if he were to lose it was because she sat for the last day and half and he fought. They were both backed against the chains, across from each other and panting. There was more blood mingled on his skin, but he was aware that it was more his own than it was Yune’s. He smelled her blood, he knew she was bleeding somewhere but with all the gold armor in the way, he would never get a taste. He smiled at her, resting his hands on his knees, but maintaining eye contact. When would they stop? Would they stop? She looked just as tired as he felt and he wished silently to call a draw. Yune would never allow that and so they stood, catching their breaths and thinking of what is next.

---

Aurora kept her arms crossed and her head low when he stood in front of her, but only because she wanted to stay angry. She knew that one look at his pristine blue eyes would have her ignoring and denying her feelings. She would justify whatever he did, but then again, what had he done? His job, plainly. Why did it matter that he left her without a word? It did not. She was q guest, nothing more, and she was letting herself get wrapped up into a fantasy that did not exist. Perhaps Ariel’s words, as unwanted and cruel as they were, were necessary lest she let herself float off into the clouds and forget herself.

She kept her arms crossed, but she looked up at him and she instantly regretted it. He looked so sincere, so confused by her that she was suddenly confused by herself as well. Why did she feel this way? Anyone else in the world would have practically leaped into Arneas’ arms and traveled to wherever he wanted, even if it was straight into a volcano. Her name seemed to spill so deliciously from his lips and she had to stop herself from moving towards them. Whatever he was doing to her made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, like slippers sitting by the fireplace. She dropped her arms, but forced herself to look away.

“It’s nothing. It’s just - I’m being foolish, really,” she stated, glancing down at the flower he presented her and feeling her entire body turn into ice.

She picked it off his hand, turning and walking a few steps away from him. Arneas did not have a right to see her feel this way nor did he have the right to try to console her, though she was not sure he would try to. She recognized this, of course, her father grew this in front his shed. She was never allowed in there, but he always tended to this bush the best and it made sense that these flowers would far outlast him. It was tiny, fragile and white - a bulb waiting to bloom. It rested in her hand, laying on its side, plucked from its branch and withering slightly in the process. She felt tears spill onto her hands and realized she was crying.

Anyone can grow this flower, but what if he unknowingly stumbled on her home? Did she want to go back there? Her father had been attacked and was laying on the bed when she was taken. Was it him? Did Arneas find him of all people in the world? Was he inexplicably drawn to Aurora just as she was to him? She looked back down at the flower and used her empty hand to wipe her face hurriedly. Would this flower bloom here, in Arneas garden? Was it already dead? Was it too withered and misplaced to become what it once was? She was not sure, but she tucked the flower into her pocket for good measure. She could not decide what she wanted to do, whether or not she wanted to go with Arneas or not. How would she react if he brought her back to the one place she longed to be but could never survive in? She turned back around, taking small and careful steps back towards him with her eyes cast down, she knew she probably did not look pretty. She had not sobbed, but knew her eyes must be red and watery from her tears.

“Yes, okay,” she said, shifting her curls behind her back. “Let’s go," she said, grabbing his hand.

His taunting was the only thing that could fuel her now. No prayers, no beliefs, no angels beside her. She welcomed it more than she ought to, watching every little move he made. She smiled at him, "I don't fear you, but am wary of the fangs beneath your lips." She replied, turning to watch him, feeling the stark difference between them. Her, the light, and him, the darkness. It was like a sun casting its rays into the deepest of caves where shadows still lingered. "So that if I am defeated, you would not taste your success." Good luck on him getting through her armour with hands and teeth. Yune doubted he knew of all the small slips. Though perhaps his lust for blood would help his nose sniff them out.

In all her excitement, she had forgotten the chains for a moment, as they hung from her and slowed her down only by the tiniest bit, but seeped the energy from her at the greatest rate. So when he pulled, and she came tumbling down, she didn't waste it on the ground. She rolled, sprang up and attacked him. They had fought for a while, and she was impressed that he lasted so long - given his leeching. This would be a battle Hades wouldn't forget. But once Yune fell and after Apollyon depleted his reserves, what would the demon do? She was his second tank of energy but after that, there was nothing, right?

Here he stood across from her, panting as she did, watching her and she watched him. It would be so easy to call a draw, but Yune was a goddess of War, there was either defeat or victory. Nothing in between. It was her nature, and it was her weakness. She forced herself to straighten, to stand and smirked, though tiredly, "Recovering sure is tedious, when there is a leech on you." She made an effort, and came at him again, but she never quite reached him. There was pain in her chest as if someone had struck a knife in. Her motion of blur came to an abrupt halt, her foot sinking into the ground as she skidded to a halt. Weapons were dismissed, and she fell to one knee, looking scared and confused. It dawned on her.

An angel of hers had died. It was a feeling of loss and pain that had washed over her, not a knife in her chest. It had been so long since she felt anything so strong. She wished to never feel it again, but her end was coming, and something had killed one of her own dears. Yune sharply turned her face from Apollyon, least he see the crystal tears running down her cheeks. Could she not cry? No. The loss of an angel was too great to even hold to herself. It was a natural reaction, the tears would come even if she did not wish to cry. The best she could do was not let her shoulders shake.

There was movement out the corner of her eye and her hand shot up as if to defend herself. But even from afar, even from close, it all looked like surrender. It was degrading, it was painful, additionally to her loss. So helpless and fragile she was now, so easy to overpower, but she kept her armour, for if Apollyon was to take advantage - she had to be prepared. For he was a demon, and if he showed any compassion now, she knew he would surely fail Hades. The God was wicked and wise, and he would play on it.

---

Arneas more than confused when she stepped away, having taken the flower with her. He could feel see she was saddened, but what by? Why did this flower change her mood again? He could barely keep up. God as he was, he felt most ungodly now, lost and confused and absolutely clueless.

He wanted to come forth and ask and console, but he felt it was not the right time. If she wanted consoling she would have stayed here in place and near him, right? But she had stepped away and taken leave. Arneas watched her back, the way her shoulders moved, and felt an urge to protect this girl. Cover her and hold her and shield her from all things that would make her unhappy. What was this feeling? He couldn't describe it, but it was very strong in the moment, and he was surprised he hasn't gone over and embraced her.

When Aurora finally turned back to him, as much as she avoided his questioning gaze, Arneas saw her wet eyes and figured she had cried - but again he couldn't phanthom why. Patiently he waited for her to near him and when she did accept his request, he smiles wide and bright. That's more like it.

The moment she touched his hand the world was a whirl again, and his wings flared out to carry them, landing them a second later in the field in front of the house. The grass rustled and bent as they appeared, sending small gusts of wind over the nearby nature. Arneas held her until he was sure there was nobody near and then let her go. Couldn't ever be too cautious. "This is the place," he said, as if it was required. He gestured to a little place on one side of the shack, "I found the flowers there. There seem to be herbs growing?" He rubbed his chin, casting one look at the freshly set grave he had conjoured for the owner to lay the wasting body to peace. And the house air was cleaned, and the rotten food was disposed off all before her coming here.

@ ashen knight;
Apollyon smiled at her, her words causing a stir in him as they always seemed to do. She came back towards him and his muscles tensed in response, ready to fight back. He did not move but she did, she collapsed almost instantly. At first he felt on edge, who was here? Who was powerful enough to interrupt them and neither of them noticed? Was it Hades? Did he know? Apollyon looked around, his senses on edge as he looked around the room. Yet, it was empty. They were the only ones in room and Apollyon looked down as Yune began to cry. His body screamed to finish her, to grab her and push her against the wall until she gave in, tapped out, surrendered to him and he needed that.

And yet, there was a small part of him that wondered what happened to bring a Goddess to her knees like this. This was the first time Yune cried in front of him and he wondered what made this happen. Did he care for her? No, it was the spectacle of it all that he was mesmerized by. He was always mesmerized by that which he did not understand and he did not understand Yune. She was trying to hard to maintain her pride, but whatever happened to her here was to strong, too painful for her to maintain her arrogance and composure. Again, he wondered. They do not write down the weaknesses of the Gods.

Apollyon knew that he could not just stand her any longer, if this was war he would be dead. If this was war, he would not worry for the being that laid in front of him. If this was Hades, he would seal the deal. His stomach twisted as he walked forward, there was no need to run. If this was Hades, he would be deliberate and slow in his demise and so, he was deliberate and slow in his motions now. He kicked the sword from where it clattered, spiraling away from her and creating a flash of light that only magnified Yune's tears. Her armor meant nothing, her tears meant nothing and a surrender was not enough.

She raised a hand to him as if to defend herself and he caught her wrist, twisting it and wondering if Gods' bones break. He grabbed her neck next, his hands moving quickly though he felt the sadness ripping through her and the pain. He rested another hand on her shoulder, he would be able to snap her neck right now if he really wanted to and again, he felt torn between primal desires and strategy.

"Dead," he stated before pushing her to the ground. He left her on the ground then and headed towards the hallway, leaving her alone to cry. He would come back after his shower and perhaps a nap. He watched the blood rinse off of him and as he climbed into his bed, alone for tonight, he wondered why he felt a bubble of guilt in his chest.

---

Aurora landed on her feet this time though she still felt a little dizzy and she blinked a few times to get adjusted to her new surroundings. Though, it only took a moment to realize they were not new. There was the shed, right in front of her, that she never entered before and behind that, a small cottage with a red 'X' across the door. She looked next to the shack, where the dirt was freshly turned and she quickly glanced away - she was not ready to look there yet. She knew that just behind the cottage, though you could not see it, was a pen that was once full of horses. Beyond that, she knew there was another farm just like theirs and behind that, another. A string of simple people, with simple needs and simple lives.

She only barely heard Arneas, his voice muffled by the roaring in her ears and her mind distracted by memories. They were like flashes, making her feel just as she felt when her and Arneas traveled, but these were not mystical. No, they were painful. She felt her hands settle on her heart as she tried to even her breathing. She expected grief to rush over her like waves, crashing and crushing her with their sheer force. Her grief instead felt like water washing gently over her, like she was submerging herself into a bathtub. She stepped away from him again, she really had no need for him at this moment.

"Can we go in?" She asked, her hand hovering on the door knob to the shack. She could not bring herself to enter without permission. She could not open the door to the mystery that her father kept from her for all these years. She wondered, in the back of her mind, what they did to him and how Arneas found him, but she shook that away quickly. Perhaps it was better to wonder, to only remember being taken away from him and not remembering completely how he died though she remembers the knives they carried and the sounds they made. Her whole body was covered in goosebumps when Arneas muttered a yes in response, though she knew he was confused.

The smell of herbs and flowers hit her like a wall and though it felt comforting, it also felt strange. She knew Arneas followed her inside, he wanted to show her everything he found. It was cute, how excited he was and she felt guilty for barely acknowledging him. Would he even understand if she told him? Did he even remember her story? She was certain she mentioned it, but maybe she had not. Still, this place did not feel like the father she knew, the non-believer that he was. There was an alter set up to the Goddess of Healing, books upon books about her and her powers. There were books on how to use herbs, rare herbs growing in the pots and she suddenly felt so confused about the life she lived and she also felt incredibly sad to have not known this of her father.

"Forgive me," she whispered. "This was my home. I never knew what my father had in here," she added as she opened one of the books on the table. All the words in the books, the scribblings in the margins in her father's handwriting (though not their language - something older) made her so confused. He made corrections to the books: to how to use the herbs, corrections on how the Goddess looked and quotes from someone, perhaps the Goddess, in the margins as well. Her eyebrows were knitted together, her sadness replaced by confusion.

"What is this?" She asked, pointing to the letters.

Her extended arm was grabbed, and twisted, and Yune yelled out in pain, eyes widening as she looked up at him in surprise and hurt. Of course. A demon. Did she really think he would offer his condolences and console her? The sharp pain in her wrist brought her back to her senses of the fight, but it wasn't quick enough. She felt his hand on her neck, and although the armour was still on and protected from any direct burns, she still felt the heat and the pressure. Her eyelashes batted up at him, mouth opening and closing a little each time as she tried to breathe.

At his mercy she stayed for a good time, for as long as he desired. It was painful, shameful, terrifying. She tried to harden her gaze, but what good would it do with her little diamond tears on her cheeks? What sympathy would it play on him? None at all. She was his to play with right now, and whatever he wished he could do. Her outstretched arm and pained wrist slumped, and the other lightly curled around his own wrist, weakly tugging it away but tightly gripping. All until she was pushed to the ground and there she stayed until she heard the door close. Yune curled into a ball and for the rest of the time she stayed so, shaking her shoulders now and then in small little whimpers.

When whatever day came again, she had found her way back to the altar of the room and made herself comfortable by its side. There had been enough time to think, to get over the loss of her angel. It this had been in a war, it wouldn't have been so unexpected, so sudden. The surprise made it worse. She knew not which one died, nor why. Uriel was still alive though, and biased as she was for him, she supposed it was all that mattered, but that didn't make it easier on the pain. And she wondered, did demons feel this pain? If Arneas lost a demon close to him, or one related, did he feel this pain too? Or was it exclusively a god thing only?

She was calm by the time the door opened again, her eyes returning to their fire, her armour un-summoned and her in the dress given. She was lightly napping on the throne again, for it was comfier than the altar, and she had no chains restricting her movement, only the shackles.

---

He could see something had changed within her, something important flashed in her soul but it was a little wave that he felt and he couldn't see past the murkiness for she was not one of his, and again he felt ever so frustrated. How did humans read each other? Feel each other's emotions? Did they at all? Did they guess, as he had to with Aurora? Arneas wanted to reach out and tell her everything was fine (was it?) when she touched her chest but it seemed all she needed was some time and peace and a moment to herself, and he left her for it.

He hesitated when she asked to go in, but there was nothing wrong inside, nothing to stop her. He nodded, then audibly confirmed his answer and watched as she opened the door. He was thankful for having foreseen this and cleared the rot out from the house so that when she stepped in she wasn't greeted by death. But still, why did she want to go in? Wasn't the herbs her main interest? They were the object he wanted to show, not the house… Although there were some things that were important and good and interesting, and certainly things that would peak her interest, like the healing books.

At the mention of this cottage being her home, Arneas looked surprised - for a brief moment. He quickly concealed it again, merely raising a brow and casting a new look upon the house. So this was where she grew up? The altar of the goddess was where she prayed? Or not? She seemed to be conflicted about it herself, so he wasn't sure. And she didn't claim to be a believer before…

He walked over when he was questioned and peered over her shoulder down at the books. "Godspeak," he replied simply with one brief look at the lettering. "The language of Gods." He reached past her, without even asking, and traced a page with his finger. "Few know this. It's old, and even fewer use it in prayers." So why did some man he found in this cottage - who happened to be her father - know how to write this? This was God's language but not a God's writing. The book's scent and being were related to the man. How? His brows moved together in slight confusion on his own behalf now. What on earth…?

He looked up at the small statue of the goddess. She was not familiar by face, only by name. He was too young to know her, and hadn't seen her in any of the meetings. Perhaps she had… disappeared?

@ ashen knight;
Apollyon did not go to see her after a few days, though he heard murmurs that she was back in the throne room. People were wary as to why Apollyon let her roam freely, but people were also proud that she returned to the throne room herself. Apollyon was not sure what compelled her to do so nor was he sure of what pain she endured. He left her alone, she could have raised hell within hell itself, but she did not. She walked back to his throne room willingly and he wondered why she seemed so broken. The fire she had when they were fighting blew away like smoke and he wondered why she sat in its ashes.

Apollyon spent a few days without since they spent too many days together as it was and he had to appease Priscialla, yet again. Priscilla was growing to exhausting and Apollyon knew that he would soon have to move on lest she think that she was the Queen of the Underworld; that thought made him laugh. He listened and he nodded at the reports of the pawns he sent out. The entrance to Hades’ kingdom was guarded by his three-headed dog, but he forgot how vast his land was. He forgot the back of his castle, the one that housed the souls of the evil, and so, they had a way in. Of course he would forget the souls of the evil, those who never had a chance to develop into demons, because he always seemed to forget about evil. Hades remembers death, he remembers his own need for vengeance, he remembers his task, he remembers his need to rise up in ranks, but he does not remember every soul that enter his palace. He is too prideful, he would not sully himself with evil especially since he is always surrounded by it.

He was still sore, he noted as he moved towards the throne room, but it was a glorious kind of sore. He expected her to be proud of him, though embarrassed for herself. He won, he did exactly what he would have done had they been at war and that was exactly what she asked of him. Would she be angry with him? Disgusted with him yet again? Apollyon was not blind enough to note that they forged a companionship or, at least, an alliance, and he wondered if that disappeared with her bitter loss. War most certainly had tides though for he should have lost and had Yune not fallen on her own accord, he would have lost. He walked through the corridors, smiling and shaking hands, but he was more curious of Yune than of the others. He made note of them to tell her, but he hurried through the halls.

She was sleeping still and it seemed that she would not wake so easily for now. What was wrong with her? He was so curious about this Yune: the fallen Yune, the broken Yune, the Yune who cried and grieved and slept. She did not stir to taunt him. She did not stir to sneer. She slept as if she was giving up and that made Apollyon’s heart fall into his stomach. She could not give up or be broken. He had no one else to talk to the way they talked. He simply would not accept her defeat.

“Yune,” he called. “Come on now, love. It’s time to wake up. You are in my spot,” he said, standing in front of her, waiting for her to move. “War waits for no one. Let’s go!” He clapped his hand in her face and she finally opened her eyes, but they were missing their shine. He was dismayed, but he pressed. “I have much to discuss with you.”

---

Aurora peered down at the book, running her fingers along the words as if she understood them, and felt more confused by Arneas’. He reached around her and she felt slightly comforted by his presence. Was he finally listening to her? He spoke of the language of Gods, but his tone was confused. How in the world did her father know Godspeak? Why had he lied for her entire life? He convinced her that there were no Gods, but he came here and prayed and served a Goddess. He told her that believing in Gods was stupid and useless and that they never actually helped you. He told her that Gods, if they did exist, were only in it for themselves and they would never notice people like them. Yet, here he prayed as if he was screaming for this Goddess to notice him. Notice him, but not to notice her.

“I don’t understand,” she practically breathed. “He never talked about any of this. He never wanted me to believe. He always made things: teas, scrubs and salves, but he never explained them all. That book was all he passed down to me, but he has so many. I don't understand. How does he write like this?” Her thoughts spilled from her lips like rocks tumbling down the side of the mountain and she felt tears stinging as each one of them hit her.

She was not sure if she wanted to stay forever or if she neat to leave this minute. She was not sure if she wanted to investigate everything or pretend she never saw any of it. She was not sure if Arneas should be here with her or if she should be alone. She had so many questions, yet no answers. If her father believed in this God, was it then okay for her to believe completely in Arneas? She did, of course, she believed in him. It would be foolish to deny that, especially since he specifically brought her here for her own good. He obviously cared and so she cared for him. Was that how believing worked?


“What does it say? Can you read it to me?” She asked.


She turned to look at him, but she had not realized how close they were. She practically bumped into his chest and she took a step back and rested her hands against the table. Now was not the time to get distracted. She was already thinking about him and about what he meant to her, so she did not need to be thinking about him in any other way. Besides, she should be thinking about her father. Questions about her father and thoughts of Arneas swirled together in her head and she was not sure where or how they overlapped, but somehow they did.

Her eyes flashed to the statue in the corner, with flowers withering in front of it. “And who is she?” She asked, nodding her head in that direction. “I don’t understand any of this. You have to help me.”

And in those days that she spent alone she had given much thought, and her mind was made up. Brought to her senses by the slap, she started awake, her eyes opening sharply and widening up at Appollyon, her hand gingerly touching the burning sore. But that was enough. She heard his words, but she didn't yet acknowledge them. She knew what she wanted in general, and she knew what she wanted right now. Her arm reached out quickly and grabbed his arm and jerked it towards her, using him to uncurl and rise up on the throne, one hand grasping his belt - just as last time - but as she pulled herself up she also threw herself onto him as if in an embrace, wrapping one arm around his neck and resting her chin on his shoulder, the other arm slipping up under his shirt and up his back. All with one intention in mind. To feel that burn between them. It reminded her she was still alive, that she was still a Goddess, flesh, body and soul.

And it burned greatly along every inch of skin where they touched, and she was tense and trembling, fingers digging into his skin, a little groan of pain leaving her throat but not her lips. She held tight, clung tight, not letting him anywhere, until she became numb to the burning and relaxed against him, finally pulling away with a content sigh. Though this time when she pulled away, there was a little ball of something running up along her arm and she watched it passively, almost - and only almost - with a small tinge of adoration. The little ball of a demon that was obviously no older than two days of age (heavens knew where it came from, she found it in his throne room in the corner), ran up and perched itself on her shoulder and stared up at Apollyon with wide curious eyes. It was dark purple in colour, with some black, and two little twisted horns of different sizes, and a spiked tail, and some fur like a mane around its neck and more long fur on its belly. It had one deformed wing sticking out, and the other was nonexistent. Yune found it ugly and repulsive, but its little squeaks were something she couldn't ignore. Could she raise a demon? Could she entertain herself for the last month or so? Or was it all in her loss, that she replace an angel with a demon just to fill the new hole inside? She thought no, but here she was, keeping the little demon a distance from him in case Apollyon snapped out at it or something. She felt a little protective.

"As do I," she moved off his throne, gingerly and careful with her new wounds, and onto the stairs by the throne, making herself comfortable before tilting her head and looking up at him. Take things slow, question by question, "So, have you decided what you would do with the human souls?"

---

Arneas remained quiet as she spoke and he was quite certain she was confused as he, maybe more so since this was on a personal level to her and not a small curious mystery. All her questions were like a waterfall, coming tumbling down around him, he wasn't even sure himself where to begin. Arneas shook his head.

"I cannot tell you of him. I can only say that perhaps he wished to keep things from you for your own safety?" He winced, that was lame. He had no understanding why a father would keep a daughter in the dark about it. He ran his finger over the letters again. "It's curious how he came to know how to understand Godspeak, let alone write in it." He frowned in thought. "He must have had either a close relationship with a god, or spent long enough around one who taught him. Your father was as human as humans can get and yet…" he looked up at her when she asked him to read, and looked back at the open book. The girl was fussing about by him, and she bumped into his chest, and he instinctively put an arm out and around her to stop her from falling, but she was all too quick out of his reach and he let the half-raised arm flop to his side. When did that become an instinct? He wasn't sure. He tried not to pay it any attention.

Spending a little time to go through the book himself, he finally spoke. "This book speaks of potions and healing methods. They don't make much sense to me, there are a lot of plant names and herbs." He gestured to another book he had opened while perusing and said, "That one speaks of the Goddess. It sounds like a diary more than anything. The man wrote it himself. He describes her in very great detail. She had…" he trailed off, and looked at her with a look of small surprise as if he saw her there for the first time. He didn't say anything, lightly pushed the book away, and muttered, "… expressive eyes and dark hair." Quickly to cover that, he added in normal tone, "The man must have seen her many times."

Arneas looked back at the statue. "This is the goddess of healing." He ran his finger over the name carved by the statue, carved in Godspeak, and opened his mouth and read it aloud, "…..". It was more to himself than anything, for he knew she would not understand Godspeak. Maybe it touched something in her soul, but as a human she would not understand. And by not understanding, it meant she would not hear it. Godspeak took years to train into humans, it was an exercise of listening more than being able to speak or read or write. Those latter three things came from being able to hear it, and nothing more.

"I'm sorry, I don't know her common, her human name." He stepped away from the little altar, more confused than anything. This man was more than a believer. He was in love. It was written all over the spare papers, all over the books, and if she visited him frequently enough then…

He took another step away from the altar and turned away from it completely. What on earth? Did they have a relationship of sorts? Then who was Aurora's mother? Could it be…? He glanced at her quickly, then away. Impossible. Why would a Goddess do such a thing?

"This Goddess no longer exists," he said quietly after a moment, "She is not among the Gods I know. It is likely she has fallen out of faith, and the people stopped believing in her. The man writes about her in the last pages, her distantness and the vacancy in her eyes. It is likely he knew her right before she vanished from this world."

That, in turn, was saddening. Even for him. It was likely she came down to earth, to her last believer, and had a good time with him for the rest of her life. Though she died even in his presence, for it was likely... that he stopped believing, and started loving, and that was her demise.

@ ashen knight;
Apollyon could not help but hiss when Yune grabbed him and the hiss matched that of their skin burning as they touched. Her body was all over his, her hand at his belt, her hands on his back and he felt every curve of her body as they burned each other up. He wanted to pull away and push closer all at the same time, but more importantly he wanted to understand. She was hugging him and Apollyon could not remember the last time he had given or received a hug. He did not hug her back, but let her clutch onto his body as he tried to process exactly what was happening. Was she still upset about her defeat? Was she truly looking for solace from him of all people?

How long had they been standing here like this? A demon trapped in the arms of a Goddess. What kind of world did they live in now? They changed each other in ways that Apollyon still did not understand and everyday he seemed to grow more and more confused by Yune’s actions.She seemed to be becoming desperate as if she was lacking the purpose she once had, but he believed in her. Was his belief not as strong as all of her followers? He believed that together they would win this war. Was that not enough to keep her going? He stopped the torture, for the most part, yet she seemed to want to torture herself. He stopped playing with her and instead, used her for what she was actually worth.

She relaxed against him finally and removed herself from the seat and Apollyon stood staring for a second. His eyes only momentarily flicker to the demon sitting on her shoulder and it was just another questionable action Yune was taking. She can squash this demon here and now, but instead she allows it sit on her shoulder like a pet. He used the seconds his back was turned to her to straighten his shirt and clear his throat as he sat. She so casually moved on from what just happened, but he could not.

“Yes,” he stated, responding to her question. “Hades obviously has a system that works so I don't see why it cannot continue. If we,” he paused, “If Hades’ powers are absorbed than it is entirely possible to create a being that will do his job, keeping it the same. Lest the underworld be run by the pesky tasks of wrangling human souls.” He thought of human souls flying around the Underworld, demons sucking them up and growing more powerful. It was unacceptable, they had to be managed and Apollyon knew that if it was not he who did it, he can certainly find or create a demon who will. He was not even sure that any of that made sense, he never thought of it before, perhaps she had a better idea.

“Yune,” he said, pausing, “What was that?” He asked, glancing down at the singes on both of their bodies.

---

Aurora listened intently to every word and clung to them hopelessly as if they would give her a piece of something, but she was not even sure what she was looking for. She never even knew this piece of her father, or of her own life, even existed. She did not understand how her father knew any of this nor did she understand how she moved through 20 years of her life without knowing it. He mumbled something in the same language that she did not understand and yet something inside her was screaming at her. Arneas spoke and it sounded like Panakeia, but she was not even sure what that word was or name it was.

You know this, you know this. But, how could she? This was the first she saw any of this, but the roaring in her ears was not quieting. She felt like someone was trying to tell her something, but the unknown was more overwhelming to her. She looked at all the letters and the statue that was carved and she felt her heart beating faster and faster. She felt like her skin was buzzing, something within her trying to rise up and be known, but what?

Arneas turned away from her and she was not sure why. All of this felt so confusing and yet, she felt like clarity was resting at her fingertips. Can she even begin to grasp it? She stared at his back, wondering what exactly he was thinking at a time like this. He seemed mildly interested at first, more obsessed with what he was giving her than what was actually happening. Now, however, he seemed to be muling over something and he did not want her to know. She was so frustrated with how this world of Gods and Goddesses was woven into her life and yet, it felt like invisible string. It connected her to everything and yet, she could not see it.

“My father said that her name was Keia,” she muttered. “That sounds a little like what you said.. I always thought it was a strange name.”

Her voice was quiet, shaking a little from the feelings that were overwhelming here. Now she felt strange. Would he too make the connection? She felt like he was suddenly tuning her out. She felt in this moment that she truly needed him. He bought her here, he discovered this, he saved her and she needed him. She hated that she needed anyone, but Arneas was the only one who could help her make sense of this. She was aching for him to help her and to acknowledge her struggles. She was not sure if he cared, but she was hopeful that he was at least as curious about this as she was.

The little demon slipped off her shoulder and circled her, carefully sniffing towards Apollyon, understanding the immensity and power of the demon before him, but not understanding the difference between this power, and the other power that he had first seen when he came into this hellhole of a world. One was pleasurable and desirable, the other burned him everywhere he touched. But they seemed to communicate, even though a moment ago they had both been in pain, and they were not hostile. Was it a friend? He turned his dark eyes to Apollyon and gave a long sniff, flicking his tongue to taste the air, to test his own senses.

All this, Yune watched with immense curiosity but listened as Apollyon spoke and shook her head. “A demon cannot control the souls. Should humans catch wind, their souls will not come down here, they will not come to you. They know demons do not protect but destroy, and they will not obey. There will be no order. You need another.” A god. She smirked, raising her head, “You can absorb Hades’ power, but you cannot take from him what makes him god. Only another god can take his heavenly powers. So you would have to face another god, and there will be one, eager to take his throne. And you would fight. Because the gods I know despise you.” In other words, he needed an ally within the gods, if a god was to take over the human spirit realm of this underworld. This she implied with one raised eyebrow, and a tilt of her head. In other words, give me Hades’ throne.

It was funny that he asked her about the embrace, and she let herself laugh a little. “I am dying. I lose followers, and my angels are killed. I fade away, and each day I feel the pull to fall to human. Then of course, I become ash and dust.” She straightened. “When I stop feeling the burn from you, I will know my time has ended. I suppose, to feed your little pool of ego, I can say I feel alive when I touch you.” Brushing a strand of hair from her face, she smirked a little more and gestured to the little demon that had crept all the closer to Apollyon, but at a small gesture from her hand, retreated away. “Do demons have names they are born with? Or do you acquire a name at your own taste?”

---

Arneas was so absorbed in his thoughts that he almost missed her mutter, and only his heightened sense of hearing allowed him to catch the little whisper of her voice and pull him from his thoughts. He heard enough of the first few words to flinch at the second lot. Sharply, he turned his head and looked at her. Did she just say what he thought he heard? His senses couldn’t deceive him. He had perfect hearing, he had perfect memory.

He turned his body to face her fully and stepped closer, but wary and careful, as if she had just told him his fate or death day and he wasn’t sure how to act about it. “You heard what I said?” He asked slowly, bringing his eyebrows ever so slightly together. Everything was falling a bit more and more into place. If this was true, if she was the descendant of this Goddess, then how had he not noticed it? Had he become so blind in his growing interest towards her that he hadn’t thought to explore the inhumanely bright light inside her soul?

Again, he spoke in Godspeak, to test her, to see if she understood. If she did, there was no doubt she would be the child of a goddess, more likely Panakeia, more likely born as Panakeia vanished from the world, donating the smallest of her soul to her offspring. “A strange name it is indeed, especially for a human mortal who spent a lot of time with a Goddess named such.” He trailed off here, falling into silence with Godspeak, and letting Aurora piece the information herself. What could he even do? Quite honestly, he was at loss. He needed some time to think. It would be convenient to head home now, and Aurora wasn’t looking her best. The thought irked him, and if Aurora hadn’t guessed it herself, he added, “You have a different soul. It is likely, but it may also be my own mistake of interpretation, that your mother was not of his world.”

Here, he refrained from saying Aurora’s world, and instead referenced to her father, for Aurora did not belong in the human world in any longer, she was not human. But neither was she a god, and thus the realm of gods was not her home place either. She was in between, and she would stay in between. Unless she ascended with a miracle, or rejected her maternal blood. He needed time to think. He needed information on Panakeia. Arneas glanced towards the window out at the fields beyond, allowing the silence to last as long as Aurora needed it to. It was a lot to take in. “I cannot say for sure. I would have to check.” He added quietly.

@ ashen knight;
Apollyon barely let himself feel the relief in knowing that Yune was not going to disappear from him just yet, but they both seemed resigned in the fact that she would eventually disappear. He was not sure if he would grieve her absence, but he would do nothing to stop it. What could he do? She tolerated him, at best, and therefore, she would never truly accept his help. If she decided to accept his help, would she accept it completely?

To become evil, that is something a God has never done before. There was, of course, a first time for everything and he wondered if this little demon was actually evil that she created herself, without even realizing it. Was darkness seeping into her soul as they spoke or as she teased him? She already fell the furthest from where the Gods ascended to and she would never be found. No one can rescue her now that she is here and more importantly, now that she was complacent in residing here. Would she become complacent in her experiences with him? She would be so deliciously powerful if she overcame her pride and accepted everything the Underworld could give her. Just the thought of turning Yune made goosebumps rise on his skin.

“You acquire a name,” he said in response. “You have to earn it. You are not born with some divine purpose and knowledge - you learn from the world and the world learns of you. We must work hard,” he said.

He smirked a little as he continued to think of Yune agreeing to completely and fully work with him and for him. Would she keep her name? Would she pick a new one? Together, they could take down the God who hurt her in first place and they could rule the Underworld. They could and would strike fear into the hearts of the Gods - a Goddess who decided to leave them. She knows everything about them. She would be invaluable. He would need to talk to the Seer as soon as possible. His head was so cloudy with thoughts of Yune going dark that he did not pause to think if it was possible, but the Seer would know. If it was possible, could he succeed or would he kill her in the process?

---

Aurora felt the tension in the air constricting against her, pressing down on her chest and making her knees wobble under its immense weight and pressure. Arneas seemed so upset with her and she was not even sure why. She was the one who was confused and scared and ‘different’ all of the sudden. She barely felt any different, aside from feeling like she was about to fall to her knees. She wondered if this place suddenly made her a threat and caused her to lose all the purpose that Arneas gave to her. She took a shaky breath, trying to settle herself though it did not help much at all.

Arneas seemed to place great emphasis on the words he said next and his words felt a whisper deep down within her, though his voice was just as powerful and proud as it always was. These words sounded the same, but felt different. His words carried more with them than just a strange and mysterious feeling, but with knowledge that Aurora barely understood. He was dancing around what he wanted to say to her and she was not sure what was so difficult for her grasp. He was looking at her differently, not with the mild interest and amusement he usually did but with a sharp curiosity that did nothing to calm her nerves.

She wanted to go back to the garden, before he left her, before he went to war, before Ariel made her feel like she did not belong anywhere near him. Before, before, before. She finally sat down on the chair that rested just in front of the book and let silence envelope her as she tried to connect all the pieces of the puzzle. She looked at the statue, trying to take in all her features and realized, slowly, that it did resemble her in pieces. She could not grasp how this could be a part of her life nor could she grasp completely her father. She felt like she had not known him at all - for him to be in love (to make love) with a Goddess and then to bash their very existence? How did that make any sense at all?

She let the silence rest over them, but it hovering and waiting for someone to break it. Areas whispered something to her, but she was no longer listening. Instead, she was focused completely on the snippets of her father and his fondness of this shack. She was trying to remember moments where he may have alluded to this piece of herself, but she could not remember even a second. She was not sure why he wanted to hide this from her. What did it mean to be half a Goddess? Was she finally ‘half’ worthy of existing around Arneas? Were there others like her?

She wasn’t sure where to go from here or if she should leave at all. She wanted to take this entire place back with her and unravel the mystery of it all herself. She looked from her knees back to Arneas, waiting and begging her him to take action and to make a decision. She had more questions than answers and she was acutely aware that he had access to more knowledge than she ever would. She felt numb and she needed him to tell her what to do and where to go next. She would usually resent that in herself, but she no longer had the energy to pretend to be in control; she lost control a long time ago, it seemed.

“Yeah, you should check on that,” she whispered, needing to say something.

Yune looked away from Apollyon and to the little demon as he spoke. Acquired a name? It sounded strange. One was usually given among humans, and one was born with it among angels, and one was born from it in Gods. Another difference she did not understand.

She stayed quiet for a moment, thinking over the things she had learned recently, both from the little demon and from Apollyon. She rubbed her collarbone in thought, and opened her mouth to ask many things, but it seemed Apollyon was in his own little world of thoughts. She reached up and touched his boot, hoping to get his attention, searching for his face to lock eyes with him. This one question was important.

"You drank blood, the others also feast on humans, but what about this one?" She gestured with her chin to the little demon as it tumbled down the stairs, landing at the bottom with a small squeak, straightening and turning its head to hiss at the stairs as the source of pain, not quite understanding that its own fault was the cause. Yune wondered what its name was, and where it came from, but every time she looked into its eyes she saw her own reflection in them, the lightness of her skin and hair, and she felt pain inside, and it made her look away more hastily.

Withdrawing her hand, she observed, "You are distracted." She turned away. She couldn't tell him to 'go', for she wasn't exactly in charge, but he needed time to think over something, he seemed obsessed with that thought, and she would leave him to it. Nothing she said now would matter.

---

The silence was breaking him inside. She was completely lost and stunned, or thoughtful, he couldn't figure it out for he was barely paying attention to her face but to the statue in front of her, catching every single resemblance. It still amazed him - in both good and bad - that a Goddess would conceive a child from man, that she would do so before she died. All these things he didn't understand, and he remembered how young he truly was. Would Yune know? Her age would make her wiser. Just like the other Gods. Surely, someone would know Panakeia.

He took her whisper as a sign for needing to head home, and there was something about this place pressing down on him and he wanted to escape it. With a small wave of his hand, he marked the wall of the house, watching as the insignia faded into the wood and disappeared from human view. "I've created a portal here. You may come here as you please from my gardens, but be sure to take an angel with you. It's dangerous for you to be alone." Now that both you and I know you are not fully human. "Demons are your worst enemy now."

He extended his hand towards Aurora and summoned another portal, ready to step through back to their temple. "Take anything you wish to take." He pointedly glanced at the book of scripts and writings that lay before them, that had the godspeak tongue all over written by a man's hand, and contained all the healing processes. He was more than sure she would want to take it, to learn the potions and techniques, to expand her knowledge, to read at her leisure. Perhaps she wanted to take the diaries too, the ones that talked of her mother, or perhaps not. Perhaps the pain was too great.

Arneas wondered what it was like to have a father who had hid the truth from you, but could not even imagine a a father figure in the first place. What was it like to be born to someone? He didn't know. The feeling humans shared in family was not one Gods could even begin to create in their minds. There was no starting place for a family love.

Had Panakeia felt it as she vanished? Was it worth?

@ ashen knight;
Apollyon shifted in his seat to look down at Yune as she spoke, but what she wondered about he was not entirely sure he cared. He cared very little for this demon, how it ate, how it survived and he certainly did not see why Yune cared for it at all. She was being foolish for devoting energy to something so small and insignificant and he sighed. Gods truly were obsessed with themselves. They probably would not know anything about humans if that was not how they remained in existence.

He stood, clearing his throat. “I am,” he said, simply and then walking out.

He needed his answer sooner rather than later. Was this what the Seer was always talking about and just waiting for him to notice? It would be like her to never directly tell him what he needs to do, but rather mention it in passing. He will never understand why those with Sight always speak in riddles; it was endlessly frustrating. He stormed in his room, but she was not there. Priscilla, however, was.

“Where have you been?” She asked, sitting on the edge of the bad. She was tapping her fingernails against her smooth white skin and Apollyon had to stifle the urge to sigh. “I’ve been looking for you. I caught us dinner,” she said, stopping the tapping to gesture to the human that was sleeping naked in the corner. She obviously ate without him. She was not very patient when she was angry so this really wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise was the fact that she thought he was going to engage in some ‘lover’s quarrel.’

“I was in a meeting,” he stated, walking over to the human and deciding to eat a little something as well.

“With her?” She asked, her voice noticeable shaking.

He dropped the wrist of this human with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, “Yes. If you’ll excuse me, I have another with the Seer. I’ll see you soon, darling,” he commented, giving up on the idea of dinner. He walked out of the room so quickly and not because he was a coward but because he simply did not care that much for Priscilla. At first he enjoyed her company and her specific powers, but now she was becoming more and more difficult to manage. She required too much attention, she lost her collected and powerful demeanor. In all honesty, Apollyon enjoyed a woman who matched him, not a woman who needed him.

He finally found the Seer who greeted him with a smile and a gesture to sit. She knew, of course, she knew what he thought of. She knew exactly what they needed to discuss and she was ready, blood laced wine waiting for him and everything. She had the exact answer he wanted: of course. Yune could succumb to whatever dark forces were already working inside her and the thought made Apollyon excited to return to her.

---

Priscilla watched Apollyon leave and felt the seed of hate implant itself deep inside her. No, that was wrong. That seed was planted the moment that wretched Goddess set foot in her home and threatened her position. It was no longer a sapling, but a tree that was swaying in the wind. No, not the wind. In a hurricane. The tree was being ripped from the ground and spinning off into the distance as Priscilla stalked her way into the throne room.

She would end this stupid little Goddess for she must be weak by now. Apollyon will have to return to her because he spent his time only with Yune now and that was unacceptable. Priscilla was with him through everything: she negotiated for him, she fought for him, she killed for him, she stalked for him and she did not deserve this betrayal. She watched him become a powerful and cruel ruler who needed no one but himself; he was brilliant. Now, he had to confer with her. What could she possibly offer him, but lies?

She walked in to see the Goddess laying ever so peacefully on his throne and she wanted to shriek, but she was unnoticed for now. Perhaps the Goddesses senses grew weak or she was accustomed to demons coming from in and out of this room. Priscilla crossed the room quickly, in a flash, and the only sound she made was the echo of a sizzle and slap on Yune’s skin.

“Wake up, you stupid little bitch,” she growled.

---

Aurora was not yet ready to take anything from this, somehow she was going to let father exist like for a little while longer. Besides, if she had constant access to this room why cart things across - well - time and space, it seems. She needed to leave and it seemed, yet again, that she needed to sleep. Time seemed to pass so quickly when she was with him, but this time she would blaming it on discovering so many things about herself. She had so many questions, but it didn't seem like Arneas had many answers for her yet and that scared her.

She felt numb and she was appreciative how tightly she got to cling to him when they moved through the portal back home. In this moment, it felt good to be held. She did not necessarily care that it was him, but rather she needed to feel the comfort of another. She needed to feel that, just for a moment, she was safe and secure in herself and in her place in world. If only for a moment, jumping through time, she needed to think that maybe someone’s arms could be home for her. She wanted to think that as she left a door open to her old home, she had another one opening up to envelope her.

Of course, that ended when she felt the familiar air of his temple, the shining gold lights all around them and the air that was perfectly warm and inviting. She wanted to stay like this, her hands and face resting on his chest but she knew that now was not the time or the place. He wanted to get answers and she wanted to sleep. As badly as she wanted to cling to his robes or ask to stay, she didn’t. She let go and was unsure of what to say. How do you thank someone for something that changed your entire life - and not necessarily in a good way?

“Yes, well, I think I’m going to go to sleep. I’ll see you soon,” she said, turning and walking up the stairs. She turned to look back at him, but he was already surrounded by angels and walked quickly away. They were talking so sternly that she wondered how all of this affected them and why not a single one of them seemed to want to include her in any of this. She was too tired to think about it for too long though and she finally let herself fall asleep.

It was in the morning, when she woke, that she decided that she needed to go back and she regretted not taking more with her. She needed to read the books, the ones she could read, and she needed to be alone. She remembered only distantly his warning to be careful and to bring an angel with her. She thought for second of looking for Ariel, but forgot this as she got dressed. Slipping back into one of those more revealing white dresses, she walked over to the insignia Arneas placed in her room and touched it. Just as quickly, the smell of herbs and the small little shack surrounded her. She was back and she was, thankfully, alone to study.

After he left, and she was given no answer, Yune felt a little frustrated. She could not communicate with this small one, for it was about as mute as a mouse. It ran around and did things, and those things were meaningless. It tried to fly, it fell, it failed, it jumped and tumbled and it explored every little nook and corner. And when Yune gave it a little of her blood, it tasted it but burnt its tongue and throat and fell into such a series of squeaks of pain that Yune no longer even bothered to try feed it anything. It seemed just fine for now, growing and feeding on something that Yune didn't know, and hanging by her when she slept.

A presence appearing in the room notified her of a stranger. It was not of Apollyon, nor the frequent guard that came to place food or drink, nor the one that checked up on her. She became wary, but she did not have time to open her eyes. She only felt the little demon on her lap leap off and disappear somewhere, and suddenly there was pain in her cheek, and a harsh voice growling in demand.

Yune's eyes snapped open, filled with anger and hatred, godly as ever, but not without a small tint of surprise. How dare this… demon touch her so? She fixed her gaze onto the succubus, and tensed. The words did not bother her, the insult was unwanted but not cared for. Yune had no time to summon any of her armour now, but she had enough time to grasp the succubus' hand and grip it tight, feeling the burn between their skins. She fixed her gaze on the other and allowed herself to sneer - as painful as it was for the one side of her face. Every inch in her screamed and begged to fight.

"Somewhat rude, area you not?" She dug her fingers more into the succubus' wrist. It wasn't too hard to guess the reason for the succubus' distaste for her, but Yune was curious why she was here of all times. The goddess was not in the best position, still on the throne, and her arm crossed over her body, it was slightly disadvantageous. But only slightly. Her spare hand was ready for another attack, and she shifted in the seat ever so slightly that should she be thrown off or attacked, she would be able to land or spring away successfully.

"Is something the matter, whore? Struggling to please him, are you?" She taunted, saying things before she could even think, knowing it would matter a lot in a moment, feeling the tension rise. But Yune basked in it, she wanted to tease this succubus, perhaps she could fight. If she were not a Goddess of War, she would have felt fear and caution, but her natural way overclouded that, and she saw no reason to tremble.

---

With a simple nod, Arneas acknowledged her words, bid her a good sleep, and was instantly flocked to by angels the moment she stepped away. His attention was diverted, and he no longer saw Aurora beyond the many heads and eyes and tugging hands as they surrounded him, as they hovered about him. He spent the night preparing and left when the mood was still high, instructing the angels to keep an eye on Aurora, but not explaining why. Without another word, he ascended the stairway up and was gone from the temple.

The next morning, Aurora's disappearance was discovered by Mira, who had come to check up on the girl but found the room empty. She rushed about and did her best to find her, but the more she looked the more she realised Aurora was most likely not in the temple. She beseeched the help of another angel, and quickly word got around, even to Ariel. Arneas was not notified, he could not be reached, and Ariel took it upon himself to find the girl, sending angels to all places possible, to all portals through which she could have left.

-

The flower dropped from his fingers, drifting gently down from above onto the freshly dug grave of the shack's owner. The wind was warm, the sun was high, it was pleasant. A pleasant day for a human to go wandering about and to stumble upon a secret. But it was no human that sat in the shack and studied the books of the owner. Uriel darkly smiled, ever so slightly. No, that was no simple human. A demi-god. Strong enough for a soul to be worth the lives of many humans, but weak enough to be of no challenge for him. A fine meal.

But besides the fine meal, his curiosity was picked. What was she doing here? Alone? Did she know of her state? Why did she study these books of Godspeak with such intensity? She had been here for quite some time now, where previously a certain god had been too. Uriel silently moved towards the shack, sensing her presence through the walls, and passing through them with ease. He found himself in a room filled with books, and the girl's back to him. He read her name on her soul. A pretty name.

If she were to look up, she would see him in the reflection of a nearby mirror. She would see a boy of about sixteen years, still youthful and fair, with snow white hair and eyes as black as tar, no sclera. His skin tanned and tone even, his features sharp and perfect. As all angels of age, he was beautiful some years ago, but now he grew in power and the more he grew, the less humanity he had to his look. Angels were not lovely little bundles of joy. They were like demons, but heavenly. They would mean well but in wicked ways.

Uriel took a step towards her, moving so that he was very clearly seen in the reflection, fixing his gaze onto the back of her head. He could kill her now, but he was curious too. She was alone and harmless, it would not hurt to chat. "Daughter of the one who fell a God," he addressed her, tilting his head a little to peek best he could at the features of her face. "Why do you walk alone?" Another step, and suddenly he was on the table in front of her, pushing off it gently, reaching forward to grasp her chin and lift her face up to his as he neared closer, taking a small breath of her scent. He pushed them away from the table, so that the chair upon which she sat would tilt back onto its two legs, but held them in place so they wouldn't fall. He peered into her eyes with a satisfied grin. Would she scream? The claws in place of his nails on his fingers dug a little more into her skin. Would she cry?

@ honeysuckle;